


Trust

by Pheylan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pheylan/pseuds/Pheylan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark thought he and Steve Rogers were working out the friendship thing.  Then came the day that Steve turned four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this idea came from. I think my muse was getting into the scotch again.
> 
> As per usual, many thanks to Cluegirl for the beta read. The ego stroking ahead of time means I'll actually post the story.

Tony Stark raced out of the elevator that opened onto the main S.H.I.E.L.D. floor of Avenger’s Tower, only to almost immediately be halted by the crazy scene that was in the foyer.  Several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were milling around while Agent Jasper Sitwell – looking a little worse for wear – was trying to coax Commander Steve Rogers into handing over what looked like some kind of energy rifle.  A very reluctant Steve Rogers.  Who was sitting on the floor.  Sucking the middle two fingers on his left hand.  Tony’s brain tried to short out. 

 

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Sitwell said catching a glimpse of the millionaire.  “You’re his friend; see if you can talk him down.” 

 

“Uh…”  Tony thought that was very clever dialogue on his part seeing that the Universe was a very unfair place if it had Commander Rogers in full uniform sucking his fingers.  And not really in a way that could even vaguely be called sexy.  “Steve?”

 

Steve scowled at Tony.  The helmet covered the Wrinkle of Disapproval, but there was no mistaking the look in those blue eyes. 

 

“Not gonna go!” Steve stated, or at least that’s what Tony thought he said seeing as the super soldier didn’t remove his fingers first. 

 

“Okay.”  Tony turned to Sitwell.  “What the hell?”

 

“We were on what we thought was probably a milk run.  Crazy scientist type sending threatening emails.  We figured he’d be mostly harmless, except when we broke into his lab he hit the Commander with a beam from that gun.”  He gestured to the item Steve was clutching to his chest.  “Rogers was close enough to grab it out of his hands but then he sort of shut down.  Wouldn’t let go of the gun and wouldn’t respond, but did allow himself to be led.  We got as far as the elevator here before he seemed to shake it, but then…”  The agent gestured helplessly.  “It’s like he’s regressed to being a kid.  Something was said about taking him to medical to see a doctor and he erupted into a tantrum.”

 

“Wow.  Okay, that’s fucked up.”  Tony ran his hand through his hair and looked back down at Steve.  The blonde was still glaring at him.  He said something, but it was too muffled by the fingers for Tony to translate.  The genius knelt down to Steve’s eyelevel.

 

“Hi,” he said.  “If you want me to understand what you’re saying, then you need to remove the hand from your mouth when you talk.”

 

Steve frowned, but pulled the fingers out long enough to say, “’M not sick!  Don’t need a doctor!  I want my Ma!”

 

Tony managed to keep a straight face as he nodded at Steve.  It was hard to do between the lisp and the return of what had to be Steve’s original accent – Brooklyn with just a touch of Irish burr.  “No, you don’t appear to be sick, and you’ve got enough experience to know what that feels like.”  He smiled at Steve.  “Do you remember who I am?”

 

Steve started to shake his head and then stopped, his whole face screwing up in a frown.  “Mebbe?”

 

“I’m Tony.” 

 

Steve tilted his head at that and appeared to be thinking.  He started to say something, but stopped when Tony abruptly grabbed his left wrist and pulled his hand away from his mouth.

 

“No, fingers,” Tony said firmly.  “Now tell me what you were about to say.”

 

“You…know my Ma?”  Steve asked with obvious distress.  Tony relinquished his wrist and the damp digits immediately returned to the mouth.

 

“Your Ma has to work extra shifts today,” Tony lied, thinking fast.  “So, I’m supposed to take care of you.  Agent Sitwell just forgot he was supposed to bring you to me instead of the doctor.”

 

Steve glared at Sitwell again before turning his attention back to Tony. 

 

“I forgot,” Tony said, trying to look consternated.  “How old are you?”

 

Steve pulled his fingers partially out of his mouth to say, “Four.”

 

“That’s right.  Silly me, forgetting that.”  He stood and offered a hand to Steve.  “Come on.  Let’s go up to my workshop.”

 

Steve stared at Tony’s hand and seemed to be debating something.  He looked down at the gun he held before reluctantly pulling the fingers out of his mouth and reaching for Tony with that hand.  Tony didn’t so much as flinch away from the saliva.  Fortunately, while Steve’s mind may have been sitting at four, his reflexes were still on super soldier time.  He rolled gracefully to his feet without putting much weight on Tony’s arm.

 

Tony grinned and led Steve to the elevators feeling surprisingly happy.  Because despite what Sitwell had said when he showed up, Tony wasn’t exactly Steve’s friend.  Team mate, check.  Friendly acquaintance, yes.   Beyond that was iffy, between the initial Loki influenced fuck-up on the helicarrier and Tony’s nearly yearlong retreat to California immediately after.  They were _trying_ was the best he could give it.  So, the current trust four year old Steve was showing was probably more a result of the lack of Stranger Danger in the ‘20s than inherent emotions about Tony, but still.  It felt nice.

 

“Workshop, Jarvis and ask Bruce to join us there,” Tony said as the elevator doors closed behind them.  “Make sure to tell him why.”

 

“Certainly, Sir,” Jarvis responded.

 

“Your elevator talks,” Steve said with wonder as he looked at the ceiling. 

 

“That’s Jarvis,” Tony explained.  “He’s not actually the elevator.  He’s a program that takes care of my things.”

 

“Like a radio program?”  Steve asked hopefully.  “Can we listen to the Cliquot Club Esk’mos?”

 

“Uh…he’s not quite like a radio program.  He actually can hear you and talk back.”  Tony had no clue what Steve was asking about.  Happily the elevator opened and they stepped into the workshop where Bruce was waiting for them.

 

“Bruce!” Tony called out enthusiastically.  “Steve, this is Mr. Bruce.  Bruce, this is Steve.  He’s four.” 

 

Jarvis had obviously prepared Bruce, because he took the announcement in stride.  “Hello, Steve.”

 

“Hi,” Steve said shyly, ducking behind Tony. 

 

“No hiding,” Tony admonished playfully.  “Mr. Bruce is a very nice person.”  Tony led Steve to an empty workbench and indicated the stool.  “Here, sit.” 

 

Steve obediently took a seat and then looked around the workshop with wide eyes.  The fingers returned to his mouth.  Tony realized that it wasn’t the best place to bring a four year old, but they really needed to get a scan on Steve and the gun, which would have been difficult anywhere else but medical.  They also probably needed to feed Steve, since he had been fighting.  If he wasn’t hungry yet, he’d soon be.

 

“Pizza!” Tony exclaimed.  “We need pizza.  You want pizza Stevie?”

 

Steve nodded slowly.

 

“Great!  What do you want on yours?”

 

Steve shrugged.

 

“Na-ah, Stevie, you have to tell me what you want,” Tony stated.

 

Steve stared at Tony for a few seconds before mumbling something.

 

“Fingers,” Tony admonished.

 

“You mean it?” Steve asked after removing the digits.

 

“Sure.  What do you want?”

 

“’Nadian bacon and fruit?” Steve asked hopefully.

 

Tony nodded.  Some part of Steve’s brain was still firing on the present.  He doubted seriously that Hawaiian pizza was available in the ‘20s.  “With extra cheese?”

 

“Please?”

 

“You got it.  Jarvis?  You heard what he wants.  Regular order for Bruce and me.  Buzz Pepper and see if she wants to join us.” 

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Do you want that off?” Bruce asked.  That brought Tony’s attention to the fact that Steve was idly scratching at the chin strap on his helmet.

 

“Uh-huh,” Steve said before the hand returned to his mouth. 

 

“Here let me help you.” Bruce smiled as he worked the buckle to remove the helmet.  He carefully brushed a finger over the slight redness the strap left behind even as it began to fade.  He then casually ran his hand through Steve’s hair.  Tony was pretty sure he was checking for damage. 

 

“Do you want to get out of your jacket?” Bruce smiled at Steve.  “Because I’ll help you, but you’ll have to put the gun down.”

 

Steve clutched the rifle closer, but otherwise didn’t respond.  Tony racked his brain for a moment trying to figure out how to get Steve to relinquish gun and then remembered the Birthday Present.  Tony had bought it early last summer with the idea that he’d go back to New York for the 4th of July, but then PTSD set in and that didn’t happen.  He later thought to give it to Steve for Christmas, but by then he was hard at work curing Pepper of Extremis and debating how to get rid of all the hardware in his own chest.  So, the present was currently still sitting in a drawer there in the workshop. 

 

“Hey, Stevie-weevie!  Do you want to draw?” Tony sing-songed.

 

Steve perked up at that.  He started talking, but Tony snapped fingers at him.  Steve carefully pulled his own fingers out of his mouth before asking timidly, “I can draw?”

 

“Sure!  I’ve got paper and pencils.  You can draw to your heart’s content,” Tony replied as he dug the art supplies out of a drawer.  They consisted of a pad of good drawing paper and a box of about a bajillion colors of pencils.  Tony had seen several of Steve’s drawings – both ones his father had and ones Steve had done since thawing – and had always been struck by the fact that they were black and white.  He’d been curious as to what Steve could do in color.  “Here you go!”

 

Steve looked at the supplies Tony had laid before him.  He looked at the rifle he held, up at Bruce, and then back at Tony. 

 

“How about,” Tony started patting the end of the workbench.  “We put the gun here where you can see it.  Then Mr. Bruce can help you out of your jacket and you can draw.”

 

Steve looked at him another heartbeat before reluctantly holding the rifle out.  Tony took it and put it exactly where he said he was going to, while muttering to Jarvis to start scans.  Bruce then helped Steve get the shield off his back and place it within arm’s reach, before working the catches on the jacket and peeling it off.  The left fingerless glove was a bit of a mess to remove, but it was probably better than the heavy red things that came with Steve’s last uniform. Tony noticed how Bruce subtly checked Steve out while helping him strip. 

 

Dummy made an appearance while this was going on.  So far, he was the only ‘bot that Tony had got fully back to working order.  Butterfingers had just been loaded into his chassis when Tony had got the call from Sitwell, but had not been pulled out of sleep mode yet.  Poor You was still a memory file as his chassis needed to be built from scratch.

 

Dummy rolled up and cocked his camera at Steve.  They’d met briefly the week before, but considering the drastic change in clothes and behavior, Tony wasn’t 100% sure that the robot knew who he was dealing with.  Steve for his part seemed quite unafraid as he studied the ‘bot in kind.

 

“This is Dummy,” Tony said as he started peeling the protective plastic wrap off the pencil box.  “He’s a robot.”

 

“Hi,” Steve said to the ‘bot.

 

Dummy clicked his claw at Steve and then looked up at Tony.

 

“Be nice to Steve,” Tony instructed.  “He’s had a bad day.”

 

Dummy clicked his claw again before rolling behind Steve and temporarily laying his arm on the soldier’s shoulder in the robotic equivalent of a hug.  Steve giggled. 

 

“Mr. Bruce, the scans on the Commander are done.  I’ve loaded the information onto the terminal behind you,” Jarvis said carefully avoiding the title Doctor. 

 

“Thank you, Jarvis.”  Bruce looked the info over as Tony handed the box of pencils to Steve. 

 

“I’ve also got a preliminary scan on the rifle ready,” Jarvis told Tony. 

 

“Great, give me a 3D rendering,” Tony replied.  He started to turn away from Steve, but stopped when the blonde gasped.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“There’s more colors,” Steve said as he carefully dumped the pencils onto the workbench.  Dummy made a quick grab for one that tried to roll away and handed it to Steve.  He took it and then looked back at Tony.  “How?”

 

Tony stared back at Steve and wondered how he was going to explain modern processes to a four year old, but Bruce interrupted.  “That pencil’s green.  Can you pick out a red one?”

 

Tony frowned at Bruce as Steve picked through the supplies to come up with a brilliant scarlet pencil.  Bruce nodded.  “Very good.  They fixed your eyes.  Isn’t that nice?”

 

Steve nodded and then a smile bloomed across his face.  He quickly opened the sketch pad and began experimenting with the various pencils.  While he did this, Bruce walked over to Tony and led him to where Jarvis had the rendering of the rifle hanging in midair.

 

“Steve was born color blind,” Bruce explained to Tony.  “There was only a footnote in his medical file that it was corrected by the serum, but I’ve often wondered how amazing that must have been to a professional artist.”

 

“Well, that explains why his drawings are always black and white,” Tony said.  He turned to the rendering and started poking at it to see what made the rifle work.  “How do his scans look?”

 

“Perfectly healthy except for some kind of haze around his brain.  Can’t figure that out.  It looks like the scan is out of focus, but I know Jarvis wouldn’t give me crappy work.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Bruce,” Jarvis replied.  “If you look closely, you’ll see center of the rifle is the same kind of haze.  The energy signatures match each other, but I can’t find an exact match to any other energy source.” 

 

“What’s the closest you can find?” Tony asked.

 

“It is vaguely similar to the energy signature of the tesseract.”

 

“Magic,” Tony spat out.

 

“Quite likely, sir,” Jarvis agreed.

 

“Fuck!”  Tony hated magic.  It didn’t follow the laws of physics and it made a mess of his lovely scientific world.

 

Steve’s head had come up with Tony’s exclamation.  Tony turned at the movement in time to see the fingers return to the blonde’s mouth.

 

“I said a bad word,” Tony said.  Steve gave him a wide eyed nod.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that.  It’s okay.  Go back to your coloring.”

 

“’kay,” Steve bent back over the sketch pad, but the fingers stayed firmly in his mouth.

 

“So,” Bruce said slowly.  “As much as it pains me to ask – should we call Dr. Strange?”

 

Tony sighed.  “As much as it pains me to answer – yeah.  We’ve got to do it for Steve.”

 

***

Stephen Strange was in another state, but let them know he could be back in New York by morning.  After the phone call, Jarvis informed them that the pizza was in and that Miss Potts would be joining them for lunch.  Tony decided that it would be easier to eat in the communal kitchen, so he had the pizza routed up there.  Then they hit a snag.

 

“Mine!”  Steve looked seconds away from a tantrum as he clutched his shield and the energy rifle to his chest.  He kept glancing over at the art supplies like he was trying to figure out how to gather them up without dropping what he already had.

 

“Yes, yes, those are yours,” Tony tried to soothe, “But you can’t take the gun to the dinner table.  That’s a house rule – no weapons at the dinner table.”

 

“But…but…”  Blue eyes started to tear up.  Tony glanced helplessly at Bruce who looked just as lost.  At that point Dummy moved between Steve and the other men.  He brought his camera at eye level with Steve and clicked his claw a couple of times. 

 

Steve sniffled and then whispered to the robot, “I have to keep it.”  His face screwed up as he tried to explain himself.  “It hurts.  I can’t let it hurt people.”

 

 “Crap.  He was born a fucking hero,” Tony muttered.  Bruce chuckled beside him, but apparently Steve didn’t hear the bad words as he was concentrating on Dummy.

 

Dummy carefully grasped the rifle and gently tugged.  Steve didn’t let go, so Dummy tugged again.  Finally, the blonde released his hold on the rifle.  Dummy put it back on the table and then moved so he could lay his arm across it.  His camera turned back toward Steve and he clicked his claw again.

 

“Steve,” Jarvis suddenly said.  “Dummy is volunteering to guard the rifle so you can go up and eat.  Is that acceptable?”

 

Steve relaxed and reached forward to pat Dummy.  “’kay.”  He then started trying to gather up his pencils without putting down his shield. 

 

Tony and Bruce gave out matching sighs of relief before stepping forward to assist their team mate.

 

***

 “So, what are you going to do with him until tomorrow morning?” Pepper asked glancing at the other end of the table where Steve was stuffing pizza in his mouth and watching cartoons on one of Tony’s Starkpads.  His shield and the art supplies sat in easy reach.

 

Tony shrugged as he chewed on a cheese stick.  “Plop him down in front of the TV with cartoons and his drawing stuff?  Aside from the issues with doctors and giving up his gun, he seems pretty well behaved.”

 

“Even well behaved four year olds need supervision,” Pepper replied sipping at her iced tea.  “Are you going to sit with him?”

 

“I was kinda hoping…” Tony let the sentence trail off and fluttered his eyelashes at Pepper.

 

“No,” She stated firmly.  “I’ve got to fly out to California this afternoon, remember?  I’m going to start packing as soon as I’m done with lunch.”

 

“Oh.”  Tony looked over at his lab buddy.  “Brucie bear?  Want to watch cartoons with Steve this afternoon?”

 

“I – uh – kinda have plans for later,” Bruce said shyly.

 

“Plans?  What plans?  You didn’t mention plans,” Tony asked almost petulantly.  Pepper swatted him on the bicep and gave him the _try to behave like an adult_ look.

 

“Well, it’s just that Betty’s in town for a convention and we were going to try to meet up around 3:00…”

 

“Ah.  _Plans!”_ Tony nodded sagely.  “Well, far be it from me to block a booty call.”

 

“Tony!” Bruce and Pepper exclaimed simultaneously.

 

“What?” Tony asked trying his best to look innocent.

 

“Mr. Tony?  I’m done,” Steve said from the other end of the table.

 

The three looked at him and couldn’t help but smile.  Steve smiled back through a face covered with pizza sauce.  More sauce stained his undershirt and covered his hands. 

 

“Looks like, Champ,” Tony told him.  The millionaire grabbed Bruce’s arm.  “If you leave me without helping clean him up, I will hate you forever.”

 

***

Steve had an apartment at the Tower, even though he rarely used it.  The three “adults” had decided that taking him there would be safest.  The place was already designed with Steve’s super soldier strength in mind, so it was one of the few areas where he could do the least amount of damage. 

 

Tony started “Wall-E” on the TV and then plopped down on the couch with a Starkpad.  He glanced over at Steve who was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, looking angelic as he bent over his drawing pad with Dummy peering over his shoulder.  Despite himself, the inventor had to smile at the contrast with Steve’s behavior when they got to the apartment.

 

The temper tantrum started the minute Steve got off the elevator and realized they weren’t going back to the workshop.  He dropped to the floor, yelling about his gun, and refusing to move.  He even kicked at Tony and Bruce when they tried to get near him.  The tantrum stopped just as abruptly when Dummy came out of the elevator and handed the energy rifle to Steve.  But that was not the end of their difficulties.  Then there was trying to wash an uncooperative super soldier’s face, not to mention trying to get him into clean clothes.  It took Bruce, Tony _and_ Dummy to accomplish this in time for Bruce to get ready for his date. 

 

Tony looked up from where he was working on his Starkpad when the sound of the movie cut out.  He noticed it was over and then looked at Steve.

 

“Did you like that?” he asked.

 

“Uh-huh,” Steve nodded enthusiastically.  “It was funny.  Can we watch more?”

 

“Sure.” Tony leaned forward to grab the remote, but paused when he noticed what Steve had been drawing.  It was a very realistic portrayal of Iron Man.  So, the artist part of the brain seemed to be still functioning at adult levels. 

 

“Who’s this?” Tony asked carefully.

 

“Iron Man,” Steve replied enthusiastically.  “He’s the best!”

 

“Really?” Tony wondered where the hell that had come from.

 

“Yeah, he’s my friend and he can fly and he can shoot light from his hands that knocks out bad guys and he’s real smart and he makes me things and helps me with…” The sentence trailed off and Steve’s smile started to turn into a frown.  “stuff.” he finally concluded.

 

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Tony said.  “Are you okay?”

 

Steve rubbed his face.  “Yeah.”  He crawled up onto the sofa and laid his head on Tony’s lap.  “Can we watch another cartoon?”

 

“Sure thing, Champ.”  Tony selected the next movie in the queue (Finding Nemo) and then dropped a hand to rest on Steve’s bicep.  Steve wiggled slightly, stuffed his fingers back in his mouth, and then stilled.  Ten minutes into the movie, he was sound asleep.

 

***

The movie had been over for a bit when Tony heard and felt Steve’s sudden intake of breath.  Tony looked down to see Steve’s eyes blink open.  Slowly the super soldier sat up, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and wiping them on his khakis.

 

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Steve finally said.

 

“So, you’re back?” Tony asked putting his Starkpad on the end table at his elbow.  “Feeling your ninety someodd year old self again?”

 

Steve made a face.  “Twenty seven, and yeah.  I think whatever it was has worn off.”

 

“How much do you remember?” Tony asked curiously.

 

“Oh, I remember all of it,” Steve said rolling his eyes.  “The joys of having an eidetic memory.”  He glanced over at Tony.  “How much of this am I going to live to regret?”

 

“Steve!”  Tony exclaimed.  “Do you really think I’d take advantage?”

 

Steve just raised an eyebrow and looked at Tony.  The genius had the grace to looked slightly abashed.

 

“Okay, that’s probably a stupid question,” he admitted.  “But, really.  I’m not going to embarrass you in front of the team or anything.”

 

“Thanks,” Steve said, showing some relief. 

 

“Although, I admit I have questions…”  Tony started.

 

“Oh, I’m so surprised,” Steve deadpanned.  He looked up as Dummy moved closer to the couch.  “Hey, buddy.  Thanks for helping to take care of me.”

 

Dummy bobbed slightly and clicked his claw in response.

 

Steve smiled at the ‘bot.  “Why don’t you take the rifle back down to Tony’s workshop.  I think that’s a pretty safe place, now that my head is on straight again.”

 

Dummy bobbed again and fetched the rifle.  As he headed back to the elevator Steve turned back to Tony who was looking very pleased.

 

“What?” Steve asked.

 

“Did you know that you and Bruce are the only people who treat Dummy like he is a person?”Tony asked in turn.  “Even Pepper has trouble interacting with him and she’s known my ‘bots for over a decade.”

 

Steve shrugged.  “Why wouldn’t I?  He’s got a great personality.”

 

Tony grinned.  “Okay, so questions.”

 

Steve sighed.  “Go ahead.”

 

“I take it that your mile wide stubborn streak wasn’t a product of the serum.”

 

Steve actually smiled at that.  “According to my Ma, if anyone had questions about who my father was, they just had to look at my smile or witness my stubbornness.  Apparently, those were both noted traits of Joseph Rogers.”

 

“Well, I can see where the first one would have attracted her to him,” Tony teased.  “And it’s a good thing you were a sickly child.  Otherwise dealing with your tantrums would have been a chore.”

 

Steve blushed slightly.  “Ma had ways of dealing with that.  Where do you think I got the ‘Wrinkle of Disapproval’?”

 

“I don’t actually know what you’re talking about,” Tony stuttered out.

 

“Uh-huh,” Steve said skeptically.  “And you and Clint never bet on what will set it off either.”

 

“So, colorblindness!” Tony exclaimed.  “Dad never mentioned that, but I had noticed you only drew in black and white.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said picking up the sketchpad.  “I never really had a chance to mess around with color, so I stuck with pencil or pen.”  He studied his own handiwork.  “Not bad for four, huh?”

 

“Pretty impressive, actually,” Tony agreed.

 

Steve grinned.  “When I came out of the Rebirthing chamber I was kinda dazed, so I didn’t really notice right away.  Also, you have to keep in mind it was an army operation, so everything was dull colors on top of that.  But then Peggy walked up and all I could think was ‘So, that’s what red looks like.’”  His smile turned sad.  “A few minutes later I got to see that blood was almost the same shade.”

 

Tony patted his shoulder.  “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve replied tossing the pad back onto the coffee table.  “So, anyway, thanks for loaning me the pencils.  I should get my own set.”

 

“Ah, no.  That is your set.  It was supposed to be a birthday present,” Tony admitted.

 

“That’s still two months away,” Steve said looking pleased.

 

“Actually, it’s ten months passed.  I was having a bad summer…” Tony tried to pull of casual, but mostly failed.

 

“It’s fine,” Steve said shoulder bumping the genius.  “We’ve all had our ups and downs.  Part of being what we are just means that they are very extreme ups and downs.”

 

Tony nodded and bumped shoulders back.  A mischievous grin suddenly bloomed across his face.  “So, Iron Man is the best, huh?”

 

Steve’s grin came back.  “Hey, you’ve got to admit there is no way that a four year old wouldn’t find Iron Man cool.”

 

“Just a four year old?” Tony teased.

 

“Yeah, well…” Steve looked over at Tony.  “He’s my friend.  He helps me with…stuff.”

 

“He likes helping you with stuff,” Tony admitted.  “It’s kind of fun seeing you discover things.”

 

They smiled at each other a moment.

 

“Okay, this is getting sappy,” Tony declared.  “It’s about supper time.  Let’s order something and then you can tell me the story of how you lost your Brooklyn accent.”

 

“Sounds good,” Steve agreed with a chuckle.  “Hey, can we get Greek?  I feel like hummus.”

 

“Jarvis?  We have a menu for Greek?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said, bringing a menu up on the television.

 

“Oh, I did have one more question,” Tony said as they deliberated on dinner.

 

“What?” Steve asks with a smile.

 

“At what age did you stop sucking your fingers?”  Tony’s grin may have been a touch wicked.

 

“Oh, jeez!”  

**Author's Note:**

> The Cliquot (pronounced klee-ko) Club Eskimos was a radio variety show that started in 1923 and ran for several years. Technically, Steve would have been 5 or 6 when began, but I think I established in the story that while his brain was functioning at four his memories were a bit more fluid. Besides, what kid wouldn’t be fascinated by a show featuring a banjo orchestra supposedly performed by Eskimos?


End file.
